


I'll be your mirror

by Bloody Red Bird (Alexanderrrrr)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale was so kind, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Manipulative Lucifer, Pain, aweful ex, don't know if it's angst, light ptsd perhaps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-26 04:14:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20736065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexanderrrrr/pseuds/Bloody%20Red%20Bird
Summary: After the Armageddon, Lucifer came back to haunt Crowley's life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The fic was inspired by the Ace Omens discord, particularly the dark omens channel.

Crowley walked out the bar light-hearted. It had rained somewhere past midnight, and the wet street was glittering. He had been drinking all night long and tipped the bartender absolutely nothing. All through his drinking he could feel the cold gaze from the bartender while he was wiping the glasses. He smirked. Hope the salty bartender would ruin a good time of many others.

Crowley walked toward his Bentley alone. It was that time before dawn when the night was at its darkest hour. And the city at its most silent time. Cockroaches crawling from and into the gutter with their shining brown carapaces. Rats with its trembling whiskers and twitching little noses. Originally he had invited Aziraphale to come with him, but the angel suddenly turned him down, saying that he had more urgent business. Business from Above, of course. That was fair enough an excuse, but he can’t help but wonder. The armageddon had already finished, certainly there wouldn’t be any kind of urgent business right now. Even if there are it won’t take long to deal with, will it? He could wait for a few hours before picking up Aziraphale. He wouldn’t mind at all.

But the angel just canceled the night out all together, without much explanation. He shouldn’t care that much, though. That was a little clingy. Anyway, that’s why he was drinking alone.

Against his Bentley leaned a tall, slim figure dressed in black. He didn’t notice the man until now. Crowley rolled his eyes and was about to drive the supposed homeless man away, before he noticed his eyes. They have the same cat-like pupils as he did, only the iris was the colour of the ominous red moon, like two drops of blood. Crowley knew instantly who the man is. He should have sense his aura from afar. Or rather, if the man had been here all along, it’s possible that Crowley had always been under the influence of his aura while in the bar, hence his bad mood. 

Before him, leaning against the Bentley, was the King of Hell.

Lucifer.

Crowley sobered up all of a sudden, without miracles. It’s too late to turn. He should move on, pretending that nothing had changed, but his feet had rooted in the ground. Time raced to a halt. The deafening sound of his heart beats were overwhelming all of a sudden.

The expression on Lucifer’s face was hard to tell. The overcoat draped about him in a kingly style, all motionless. The pair of red eyes glowed, unblinking. It’s been too God-damned long since  _ that _ . He almost forgot about it. Maybe he was hallucinating, but his pounding heart screamed that it wasn’t.

Then Lucifer spoke. Slowly and coldly, as befitted the King of Hell. His monotonic voice traveled through the street like a gush of cold wind.

“Do I have to commend you to come here?”

Crowley shuddered. “No, your grace.”

He knelt and crawled to the feet of the King of Hell, trembling. Lucifer was wearing a pair of old leather boots. It was all Crowley could see, since it was only an inch away from his nose.

Then he waited. The pressure of his gaze falling upon him made it impossible to breathe, but he dared not to move. He stayed as still as a statue, for so long that his legs felt numb. Tiny claws scratched their way through beside him. Rats. He could see them at the corner of his eyes, and they were sniffling at him curiously.

His knees started to hurt. Then he heard Lucifer breathed in. The rats ran away. He’s about to speak. Crowley kept completely still.

“Crowley.” Lucifer said with contempt. “Here you are. All dressed up, with nice car and nice clothes. I hope you haven’t forgotten who you were.” 

“No. I haven’t.” Crowley said. “Crawly was the name you gave me.”

Crawly. Like snakes, reptiles. Like those creatures living in dark, damp places who had never known sunlight or warmth. Like the sewer rats. Like the cockroaches crawling beside him. That’s why he hated the name. It was not him.

Then he remembered: that’s who he had been, once. They were all equal before Lucifer, the King of Hell. Before his presence he was no better than them. He had been less. Memories long forgotten washed over him.

Even in Hell, he was an outcast. He was neither the most powerful nor the most eloquent. He was not mercieless nor hateful. He even misliked cruelty. He was different, and this was enough of a reason to make him the target, a plaything of others’ enjoyment. Ever since the Fall, He had been hiding in fear, while other demons hunted him down, since there wasn’t much entertainment in Hell. 

Crawly couldn’t stop imagining. That’s one thing that made him different, too. The imagination. He couldn’t stop imagining his fate, the consequences of his doomed capture, so instead, he prayed. During those times Crawly had prayed, again and again, to God. He asked why he had fallen, how he could repent, and if God could save him from this misery. Perhaps he was so far from Heaven that she never heard him, but still he prayed, because there was no other solace in Hell.

Until one day, Lucifer found him and heard his prayer. Then he told him:

“Pray not to God. For God herself had forsaken the like of us. Our sin won’t ever be forgiven or forgotten. But if you would pray to me, I could promise everything your heart’s desire.”

That’s when his life changed. Some may say he had become a pet of the Devil, but at that moment Crawly didn’t really care. Finally, he was free of fear and nightmare. In turn of safety and power, Lucifer didn’t ask much from him. Most of the time they just talked. Lucifer was good at speech, and Crawly was a good listener. So Lucifer had his undivided attention, his prayer, and his gratefulness. For what he had, and what he had become, he owed all of them to Him. So it’s only fair that he should devote all of himself to his Savior, Lucifer.

And now he’s kneeling before him. His legs were getting numb. A thousand needles were digging into the flesh, but he hardly felt them when all he could remember was the benevolence of his Master. It was he that sent him up here when he had asked him to, although he didn’t wish to part with him, but he knew he couldn’t stand the Hell anymore.

“Look at me.” Lucifer commanded. 

Crowley raised his head, but could only hold a second of eye contact. 

“How long had it been?”

“About six millennia.”

“Well, how had you spent your time up here? I hope you like it?”

“I’ve been performing my missions with the utmost care.”

“I know. I read the reports. You’ve done amazing jobs.” Lucifer spoke irritatedly. “I want to know if you are enjoying your time up here.”

“I have.” Crowley murmured.

Lucifer didn’t speak. Just when Crowley started to feel afraid, he spoke softly:

“I have missed you so much.”

Crowley bit his lips, since he knew Lucifer couldn’t see it. Well, he knew this dance. They had done it countless times back in Hell. It was a long time ago, but perhaps he could tolerate it…… once again. He knew what Lucifer wanted. He just have to give it to him.

The only thing is that he didn’t how he should respond.

He should say that he missed him as well. That’s what he want to hear, then after some more exchange he just have to closed his eyes and let him do whatever he wanted with him, but he just couldn’t say the word, because in that case he wouldn’t mean it.

Crowley let the silence hung between them. He knew instantly that it was a big mistake. He’s about to get punished for his arrogance. He waited.

Lucifer reached out his left hand. Its finger elegant, but powerful. Crowley took the hand respectfully and was about to kiss the ring, then the hand seized him by the throat. Crowley gasped and clutched at the fingers.

“Rise.” 

He could hardly stand. His legs had gone numb. He couldn’t even feel them, so he was lifted up by the throat. He wanted to say “no,” but only incoherent chokes escaped from his mouth. He knew it was coming, but he didn’t know it would be now. The punishment. Then all he could see was Lucifer’s cold smile. The greed in his eyes. Crowley shut his eyes and froze. 

It was just like before. It was an old dance between them. They did it countless times when back in Hell. He knows it by heart like he knows the line of his own palm. He only had to wait for it to be over. He wouldn’t feel a thing. Only this time the feelings were vivid. The nails digging into his throat, the hot breath on his cheek, the warmth of their closeness, and all those things that he wanted to blocked outside his conscious, the biting on his lips, the intruding tongue tasting his, violating him…… 

It was an old dance. There had been so many of it, and he knew all of them so well that the memories just came flashing back, one after another. He tried to focus on something else. It was just starting. He had to be away form this. He had to come up with something. Anything other than this, since he didn’t want to remember.

Aziraphale.

He hold on to it like a prayer.

Aziraphale.

His smile. His laughter. His tartan bowtie. His little complaints when he drove fast. His weird catchphrases. His books. His bookshop. Once it’s all over he is going to his bookshop. His bookshop. Bookshop. Bookshop…… 

The clenched fingers let go. They broke apart. It stop. Crowley rubbed his neck and backed away, panting. When Lucifer touched him, he blurted out:

“No.”

The word came out before he knew it, and he regretted the moment he heard it. Why had he said it out loud?

“I didn’t meant it.” Crowley said. 

But he did mean it. He wanted no more of it. He felt empty and drained. He wanted to go home, to Aziraphale. He wanted to cry. Legs failed him and he tumbled to the ground, holding his head. Lucifer looked at him with amusement, then he also knelt down to be of the same level with him.

“Poor, poor Crawly.” Lucifer whisper softly at his ear. “Were you thinking about your angel?”

Crowley was shocked. Lucifer continued. His voice sweeter than syrup, sadder than the autumn leaves, and as calming as a quiet forest lake.

“Don’t worried. I don’t care if you keep a pet of your own.”

“He is not my pet---”

“You can call him whatever you like. I don’t care” Lucifer caressed his sweaty hair, pushing the locks away form his eyes lovingly. “Because nothing can change the fact that you are mine.”

Lucifer wiped away his tears and hold him by the chin. He kissed him again. This time tenderly. Crowley let him. It was somewhat soothing.

“But there’s nothing fun loving an angel for sure. They are so different form us. They don’t know you. I do.”

Crowley would have objected, but he was so tired, and Lucifer’s voice was like a lullaby.

“He don’t know the misery you went through, he had never fallen. He never doubted the Almighty. He never had questions. If he loves you, it was only because of his native. It’s not because you’re special, but you’re special to me. I chose you to be my companion, remember? I gave you everything you need. We are both fallen. How could he understand the pain we shared, the paradise we lost?”

“We?” 

“We.” Lucifer said while kissing him. The touch burned. It shouldn’t have. Crowley thought vaguely. The next thing he knew was Lucifer pressing against him, feeling him. Crowley couldn’t object him, so he let him do whatever he wanted. 

Crowley looked up in the dawning sky. Then he closed his eyes and prayed:

Bookshop. Bookshop. Bookshop…...

#

In the evening, Aziraphale had an visitor, Gabriel. Everything was a little more embarrassing after the Armageddon that wasn’t, but they both tried to act as if nothing was wrong. They even spent some time catching up, although both can’t be more uninterested.

“How are you doing? Any news from Heaven?”

“Well, everything was as before.”

“Glad to hear that.”

“Although it was somewhat busier, because of an unexpected change of plan.”

“Really?” Aziraphale raised his brow in surprise, while Gabriel faking his brightest smile. He wanted to say: “ _ God moves in mysterious way _ ,” then thought better of it.

Gabriel had come to deliver an emergent message. In the past years Aziraphale would have freaked out, maybe he still does, that’s why he cancel the night out with Crowley. He needs his full attention. However, after the supposed Armageddon, he had saw through the pretentiousness of the bureaucracy and had become rather disappointed. 

The emergent message ran as followes: Lucifer had manifested himself on Earth.

The message itself was indeed important, but it was without context. Why had he came? What was Aziraphale supposed to do? What was Heaven’s response? That plus the all indifferent manner of Gabriel, Aziraphale believed it was just another pretense to check on them. If they want to keep harassing their peaceful living, he can play the game as well.

“You know, God moves in mysterious way.”

Aziraphale supposed no human could clenched their teeth while smiling at the same time. That was quite a sight. He had all night long to chat with him, but Gabriel had left in a hurry. Apparently it’s no easy job being an Archangel. Aziraphale wished him good luck before detaining him another thirty minutes. When Gabriel finally left, Aziraphale hoped it’s the last time he ever saw him, but it’s likely he would just send someone else instead. Aziraphale shook his head and sighed. He had planned to spend the night with Crowley. 

He spent the rest of the night reading, until the dull grey light crept through the window. From the street came a familiar roar of engine, the Bentley. Aziraphale’s heart lit up. Then he noticed something amiss. Usually Crowley would just speed through the street and stopped just right before the bookshop to scare the hell out of every pedestrians, but from the roaring of the engine, it seems that Crowley was driving immensely slow, as if drunk. That was so uncharacteristic of him.

Aziraphale walked outside just when the Bentley was pulling over. He had never thought this day to be any different from the other, until now.

“Crowley, what happened?” Something was wrong.

Crowley was slouching behind the wheel, hiding himself. His hair, always so stylish and neat, was now a complete mess, some tangles are hanging before his face, but he didn’t seem to care. What terrified the angel was his eyes--- He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses. 

The light had died in his eyes. The playfulness, the sarcasm, and his cocky air were all gone. His eyes were now frightened and agitated, like that of a scared animal. They were looking at anywhere and nowhere, searching for a vicious predator that wasn’t there, and then, they rested on Aziraphale. Then light slowly came back to his eyes.

“Angel!” Crowley said with a fake cheerfulness while rolling down the car window. It nearly broke his heart. 

“Crowley, what happened?” Aziraphale asked again, looking into the car window. Crowley acted as if nothing happened, but his hands were shaking, his whole body was shaking.

“Nothing.” Crowley said again, with a forced smile. “Uh, angel, would you mind…… ”

He couldn’t continued. The voice broke.

Aziraphale spoke softly: “I don’t mind at all. Tell me, what is it?”

Aziraphale waited patiently, then he finally whispered: 

“Would you mind helping me out?” 

Aziraphale helped him out of the Bentley. Crowley was a mess. His clothing was disarranged, and there was mud on his pants, but Aziraphale couldn’t tell what happened. There was no apparent physical abuse. He would have helped him inside, but Crowley just pushed him aside and walked straight into the bookshop. Aziraphale locked the Bentley with a snap and hurried after him.

It was early in the morning. The city was just waking up. Aziraphale hadn’t opened his bookshop yet, so there were just the two of them. 

Crowley was standing in the bookshop. He was just standing there, holding himself, don’t know what to do, don’t know where to go.

“Crowley, dear. You have to tell me what happened. Did Hell get in touch with you?” He cringed when the angel forced him to turn around.

“No. Yes. I mean. No.”

“Then tell me what happened!”

“Nothing.” He looked away.

Aziraphale grabbed him and shook violently him by the shoulders. That’s when he realized he’s panicking. He’s afraid of what Crowley would tell him.

Crowley finally focused on him. Their eyes met. Fear and pain laid bare in his amber eyes. Then, for the first time after  _ that _ , he found himself crying.

While Crowley clenched to him and cried, Aziraphale felt strangely calm, as if he was not himself, as if he couldn’t afford to feel afraid, as if he’s stronger than he knew. He hold the wretched demon tightly in his embrace and softly humming nonsense to him. The question could wait. He will tell him when he feels like to.

“There there.” Aziraphale kissed him. “Let’s go upstair, shall we? Let’s go upstair, dear darling boy.”

Receiving the smallest nod, Aziraphale gathered him up in his arms. Crowley was warmer than usual. It must be because of the crying. Thought Aziraphale. And it was hot where their skin touched. Tears made his cheeks and hands sticky. Hair clung to his cheeks and neck. 

“Here we are.” He oozed while entering the bedroom. He does have a bedroom, and it was properly decorated with a bed. Crowley sometime slept in it, so it had pillow, sheet, duvet and everything. He put Crowley on the bed and cuddled him from behind, all the while holding him, but he turned around and hugged him. Aziraphale then manifested his wings and draped the right one around the demon. White feathers covered him from head to heel. He wanted him to feel completely safe, to know that he would shield him from all harm.

After a while Crowley started to twist. Aziraphale hold him tighter.

“Too hot. Can’t breathe.”

He then popped his head from between the feathers to get some fresh air. After that both of them laid still. The angel felt himself wearing too warm. His back was itchy, but he kept as still as possible. 

Crowley didn’t sleep soundly. Aziraphale doubted if he had sleep at all. Sometimes he fell asleep and tears dried. Sometimes he’s weeping so silently that he didn’t notice. He closed his eyes most of the time, with chest rising and falling steadily, but he would move at the slightest sound, or give a gasp, or just tense. Was that a nightmare? A disturbing thought? What happened last night? Aziraphale felt even his own thinking could startle him. If he could sense the demon’s uneasiness, certainly he could sense  _ his  _ as well, for they were holding each other.

The grey morning dawn grew brighter and yellower. Daylight shone through the bedroom window. Anytime there’s a distant bell ring from downstair, or an unsure door knock, Aziraphale could feel Crowley’s heart lost a beat, and he would kiss him to insure him that everything was alright.

The yellow sunshine grew into orange sunset. The room was dyed a rusty red, the shadow stark black, the white feathers wine-colored. The air was steamy and hot. Aziraphale was drifting on the verge of dream, when he stumbled on last night’s conversation with Gabriel.

Lucifer?

Aziraphael sobbered up all of a sudden.

The Hell did get into contact. What had happened?

Crowley sensed his awarness, then looked up at him.

“No, it’s not what you think.” Crowley muttered. “It’s more…… personal matter.”

“Hmm.” 

It’s the first time they spoke. Aziraphale pulled out a tissue to dry Crowley’s forehead. 

“I probably should tell you, but it’s really my fault.”

“No. It’s not.” He said firmly.

“I haven’t said anything yet.”

He kissed him. “It’s not, because I love you.”

Crowley laid his face against his chest. Aziraphale couldn’t see his face, but hot wetness was soaking through his shirt. He may have shed some tears, but he dried them on the pillow.

#

“You are my first.” Crowley spoke, a little shyly. 

“And you mine.”

“But before I was yours, I was someone else’s.”

“You mean you didn’t love him?”

“I’m not sure. It just happened, and by that time it didn’t feel like there were any other choices.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I was in a very bad condition. I was just…… desperate. Tired, maybe. There wasn’t any fight left in me. I want to numb myself. I want to escape. I want to feel. And he was there.”

They were still lying in bed. Aziraphale had stretched out his wings. The night air was cool. 

“That was a long time ago. Six millenia. Before we even met. I almost forgot, until he…… last night, he…… ”

Crowley stuttered a bit, Aziraphale stopped him.

“I know.”

“But I didn’t say no. Maybe I deserve it.”

“No, you don’t.” Aziraphale said coldly. “And next time I see Lucifer, he would regret he ever fell.”

#

The time flied by, like a fast forward film. Everything was unreal and distant, until someone suddenly pressed the stop bottom, and Crowley found himself sitting in the bathtub, looking at nothing. It was until then that he realized he was looking at nothing. Before that, he can’t remember what was he doing. He was thinking, but he can’t remember what he was thinking, either.

The hot water was comfortably warm. It felt like an embrace. He leaned back to bathe his shoulders into it. There were ridiculous amount of bubbles in the bathtub. Some was stuck on his hair. The angel miracled them. It felt kinda nice.

He felt alright. Of course he was tired and sore, and he felt like he could lie in the water forever, but that’s…… different. Actually, he felt fine. Finer than he should. To make a fuss over something so trifle, he should let it go. It had been six millennia. Just let it go. He felt almost ashamed. 

It’s no big deal. Everyone can do it.

Beside that, Lucifer was not all wrong. He did have his point. Demons are different from the angels. For instance, he didn’t know what seized him powerless last night. He only knew that he was wrong, that he need to be redeemed, to be punished. He need to suffer, because only that would make sense. Only that would justify everything that happened to him. 

So, yeah, he deserved it.

He felt strangely indifferent, curiously sad though.

He would never ever share those disturbing thoughts with the angel. He won’t understand even if he split it out loud. He’s so precious and pure for that. So naive. It feels like poisoning him. Aziraphale. He tasted the sound at the tip of his tongue. He would stand by his side, protect him no matter what. He feels safe with him, physically, but there’s also a void within him that keeps calling out, asking for answers, questioning everything about himself. Aziraphale shall never know about it, because it’s his job to protect him from that. If all an angel shall know is the beautiful bright side of the world, a demon shall knew its sinister dark half, and kept the others away from it.

Crowley drained the water, dried himself and get dressed. He felt calm.

#

Aziraphale was in the backroom, biting his lips, frowning at his desk. Upon seeing Crowley, the frowning turned into…… It felt like he tried to give a comforting smile but was at the same time on the verge of tears. His mouth was smiling but his brows were crying. Crowley hold the angel in his arms. He’s so soft.

“It’s alright. I’m fine.”

Aziraphale didn’t reply. A moment later he touched his hair.

“Crowley, you haven’t dried your hair.”

“I know.”

“Let me.” Then the angel hurried upstair. Crowley wanted to stop him, but he had already gone. He returned with a comb and a hair dryer.

“There really is no need.” 

“You’ll catch a cold.”

After half an hour, his hair was dried. Crowley haven’t seen himself in the mirror, but he must looked terrible, because Aziraphale kept holding his shoulders, kissing him and rubbing his hands. He also wrapped him up in a cozy blanket. Everything was fine, but out of nowhere, Crowley felt bored. He wanted to be alone.The sudden urge was so strong that he couldn’t stand it any longer.

“I want to go back to my place.” He said when folding the blanket.

“Not a problem. I’ll pack my things.”

“No, I mean. Just me. You don’t have to come.”

“But I don’t mind.” Aziraphale looked at him, confused.

“No, it’s just…… ” Crowley don’t want to hurt him. “You see…… I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Okay?”

Aziraphale opened and closed his mouth several times. No word came out. Crowley was going to said “Forget it,” when he finally spoke:

“Not a problem, but.” Aziraphale bit his lips again. “I want to give you something.”

From behind the desk at the back of the backroom, he unlocked a drawer, and took out a Thermos with tartan stripe.

“No, no. I don’t need that.”

Aziraphale approached, all seriously.

“It’s holy water of a lower grade. Considering the situation you might face, I think it’s better to…… ”

“No, no. I really don’t need that. Everything’s fine.” Crowley quickly grabbed the sunglasses and pecked him on the cheek before leaving. “Tomorrow.”

Aziraphale followed him outside to the Bentley. 

“Call me anytime you want. You know I never sleep.”

“K.”

Then the Bentley drove away. After returning to his flat, Crowley vaguely recalled that he should probably take the Thermos, but he dismissed the idea quickly. Lucifer never hurt him, not really.

#

Aziraphale sat at the bookshop until noon. There was no customer, because he didn’t open the shop. He had been waiting for the telephone call all night, but Crowley never called. He wandered about the bookshop, trying to figure out the situation.

It’s a problem between Lucifer and Crowley, so neither Heaven and Hell would bother to interfere. If Lucifer shall visit Earth again, however, it’s likely that Gabriel would inform him again, since he hasn’t known the purpose of the visit yet, so that’s a good thing. He had no idea when would the next visit be. It could be another six millenia. It could be tomorrow. It could be  _ now _ . Aziraphale stared at the telephone. No. If Crowley needed him he would call. He would call him if he haven’t shown up until night. After all, Crowley did mention to come back today morning, and it’s not uncommon of him to sleep through the day.

No one would help them. The realization hit him. It was the first time ever that he was utterly helpless and powerless. There was only he and Crowley, facing Lucifer, who is so much more powerful than both of them combined. Crowley couldn’t even disobey Lucifer, let alone confronting him. As for himself, Cowley said that Lucifer wouldn’t mind him at all, and that Lucifer is a man of his words. If Crowley thought the information would reassure him, it didn’t. On the contrary, he hoped that Lucifer would come for him. At least it means that Lucifer viewed him as an obstacle that needed to be overcome, and Crowley would be safe. He didn’t want to be left out.

A familiar roar of engine approached, followed by a long squealing of brakes and some pedestrians shrieking. Aziraphale looked up expectedly. For a second he thought that everything had gone back to normal, that Crowley would opened the door cheerfully and ask him if he want to go to St. James Park, or Ritz, or some newly-opened sushi restaurant that he discovered recently.

Only that Crowley did open the door cheerfully.

“Hey, angel. Want to go out?”

He looked good, just a little embarrassed.

“Sure. Where would you like to go?”

“Are you hungry? We could do the Ritz. It’s lunch time.”

When they left, Crowley observed:

“You didn’t open the shop.” 

“No.” Aziraphale tried to come up with a reasonable explanation. “No, I haven’t.”

The next morning Aziraphale opened the bookshop, and Crowley arrived at noon.

“I didn’t open the bookshop so you can take me out all day. I do have a business. You know.”

Aziraphale joked nervously. Crowley smiled and said nothing. He followed him around the bookshop, watching him doing the bookkeeping, arranging the books, and cleaning the place. He went into the backroom when the first customer walked in. Aziraphale didn’t know what he was doing inside. It was a busy day. Sometimes he took a glance and found him reclining in the sofa, not sleeping though, just sitting there. A while latter he found him drinking hot cocoa. (That’s because Crowley couldn’t find the coffee.) A while later he was gone. Aziraphale walked in the backroom and found him gone. It latter turned out that he was sauntering about in the bookshop, mingled with the customers. From times to times he would pick up a random book and read the cover then put it back. He didn’t talk to him, but Aziraphale always found him nearby, be it in the next aisle, from across the table, or somewhere behind him. 

“Do you need anything, dear?” Aziraphale asked him after he checked out the last customers.

“Nope.” Crowley said, picked up another book and walked away.

Aziraphale knew that he would saunter back later. The angel kept wondering if he was alright, but it seemed that Crowley didn’t want to talk about it. He thought about it all day. It made him give the wrong changes and trip over the table.

In the late evening, under the unrelented glare of Aziraphale, the last customer finally left. Aziraphale closed the shop.

“I’m so sorry, my dear. Now we can go out.”

“Great.” Crowley said, but his hands were bending a book uneasily. It was getting darker outside.

“Or we could just drink in the backroom if you like.”

“Nah.” Crowley shook his head. “I want to go out.”

They got into the Bentley and drove around the street while discussing what to eat. They have gone to Ritz yesterday already. The sushi restaurant that Aziraphale loves closed today. They decided to go to the new japanese restaurant, but it turned out lots of people had the same idea. Aziraphale then suggested another Italian restaurant, but Crowley was not in the mood for spaghetti. He was in the mood for some coke, therefore suggested Mcdonalds, which was rejected by a horrified angel. The same fate befell other fast food restaurants that sold coke.

“We really have to decide now.” Aziraphale said.

“Then you suggest one, if you just keep say ‘no’ to mine.”

“I’m sorry, dear, but fast food is definately out of the question.”

“Nevermind that. I don’t want to drink the coke anymore.”

“How about the japanese restaurant we just passed by? It’s been thirty minutes. There might be fewer people by now.”

There was fewer people, but still there wasn’t any vacant table. The receptionist told them to wait at least an hour.

“How come the same thing never happened to the Ritz?” Aziraphale asked. “We never bothered to book the Ritz.”

The receptionist went blank-faced.

“I suppose it’s because the Ritz was way more expensive.” Crowley explained. “So fewer people go there.”

“What a shame.” Aziraphale turned to the receptionist. “Perhaps we could buy some takeout instead?”

So they bought some sushi and walked back to the Bentley two blocks away. Crowley was singing to himself. It was a tuneless hum. 

“What does it mean?” 

“What?”

“The lyrics.” Aziraphale repeated: “ _ When you think the night has seen your mind. _ ”

“ _ That inside you’re twisted and unkind _ .” Crowley sang.

“Yes. What was the song about?”

Crowley hummed to himself a while longer. This time it was just humming. Aziraphale wondered what was the rest of the lyrics. Then Crowley said:

“Someone who doesn’t like himself.”

“That’s so sad.”

“Yep.” Then he didn’t hum anymore.

The Bentley was around the corner, with a traffic warden standing beside it. His yellow vest conspicuous in the somber evening. Aziraphale frowned. Is he giving a ticket? Surely they have parked at the right place. Aziraphale was thinking whether he should call the warden before he sensed something wrong. He looked back.

Crowley had gone.

Aziraphale went back, yelling. He couldn’t find him anywhere.

#

In the dark street, Crowley closed his eyes, but somehow he was still seeing everything. He was pinned against the wall, with both wrists clenched, by Lucifer. His legs were forced apart by his knee. He could feel the hardness pressing against him.

“Only I would ever love you.” He felt the smile against his neck. 

He bit him lightly on the throat and started to undo his pants. Crowley could no longer stand. Needles were digging into his flesh. His legs were numb. His knees were giving in. He slid slowly on to the ground, so Lucifer laid him down and knelt between his legs. His teeth were white and sharp. There’s no way he could say no to this. It’s his duty. He had closed his eyes, but he could still see his white, sharp smile in his mind-eyes.

“Only I would ever love you, because we are the same.” It smiled.

“We?” He asked.

Then pain shouted through his body. Every kiss burned. Every touch hurt. He was back in Hell again. Crowley started to sob, but no tears came out. The sobbing was still there. It was loud and clear, but it wasn’t coming from him. It was someone else crying: 

“Please…… ”

Crowley looked up. He was trembling and sweating, but the street was brighter than he remembered. He was sitting in a small alley. He couldn’t remember how he came here. The sounds of the city surrounded him. It’s not the dead of the night anymore. Lucifer was gone. He was never here, and Aziraphale was kneeling before him, hiding his face in his hands, pleading with a broken voice:

“Look at me, please…… ”

“Angel?” 

Aziraphale stopped sobbing, with a hesitant voice he answered:

“Yes?”

“Are you crying?” Crowley asked softly and touched the angel’s wet cheeks.

“No, I---I’m sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be.” Crowley found himself hugging the takeout sushi all the time. He handed the distorted boxes to the angel. “Sorry that I frightened you.”

“Don’t.” Aziraphale wiped clean his face. Then he took Crowley’s hand and rubbed the palm with his thumbs. They sat on the ground for a while longer. None had the strength to get up. A moment later the angel asked:

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“Mmm, nah.” Crowley considered. “Uh…… ”

“Yes?”

“Hold me.”

“Here.” Aziraphale held out his arms, and Crowley leaned into them.

###

They drove back to the bookshop in silence. Crowley tried to chat. He asked if there were always so many customers in the bookshop, where did Aziraphale keep his coffee, if he need some help to scare away the customers, things like that and so on; but Aziraphale was absent-minded all the way back. Most of the time he just answered yes or no, or gave some short, simple explanation. To grab his attention, Crowley drove in the drive-through and angrily ordered two cups of coke and some fries, but Aziraphale just watched the whole process indifferently.

“Why don’t you talk with me?” Crowley whined.

“Sorry, dear.” Aziraphale was mildly surprised. “I was just thinking about something.”

“Well, thinking won’t do us any good. We bought sushi from a new restaurant tonight, you could at least smile.”

“Alright then.” Aziraphale smiled. It was small but lovely. “Would you stay at my place tonight? I could close the shop tomorrow, and we can spend all day just doing nothing.”

“Sssounds great.” Crowley hissed.

Aziraphale became more talkative after that, but sometimes when Crowley glanced at him, he could still find that musing expression, so he talked more to cheer him up. He wanted to prove him that everything would be alright, but still the endless talking made him so tired that after dinner he just threw himself onto the sofa and started a new TV series on his phone. Aziraphale picked up a book and sat in the armchair and read. He was in the middle of the show when he heard Aziraphale talking. Crowley took of a earbud.

“What?”

“It just occurred to me,” Aziraphale said with a pretended casual tone. “Last time when I visit Hell, I didn’t see Lucifer. Just Beelzebub.”

The name. Every line of thought in Crowley’s brain raced and tangled all together. Alarms were set off. Why did he say the name? He was thrown back in fear and panic again for a few seconds, before he realize he was still lying in the comfortable sofa. Reluctantly he said: “He enjoyed keeping himself mysterious.” Then the knowledge of Hell supplemented themselves. “Like God herself, keep your face hidden. Administratively, Beelzebub is in charge of everything, but he has to consul with Lucifer and leaves major decision to him.”

“Then I suppose most demons have never seen his face, and not even know where to find him?”

“Oh no.” Crowley felt a chill down his spine.“We know exactly where to find him. It’s just we rather not to go there. He’s in the pit. Why do you ask?”

The angel avoided his eyes, before it’s too late, he sighed: “Sorry. I shouldn’t ask.”

Crowley would have asked him what was he thinking. The angel was wearing that musing expression again, but he couldn’t bare to ponder on the subject, and it had been a long day, and he didn’t really want to ask. Why can’t they just have a normal evening like they had had in the past? Why can’t they just forget about everything that had happened? It was a lovely evening.

“Do you want to drink?” He asked. 

Later that night, when Crowley started to yawn, Aziraphale took the glass from his hand. 

“You tired?” He was smiling. It was the gentlest smile. He didn’t realize it was also the most sorrowful smile. He stretched his body in the sofa like a cat, with the blanket tangled around his waist. The phone dropped onto the carpet. It made a muffled sound, but neither heard it.

"Just a little bit.”

“You liar.” The angel chuckled and kissed him lightly by the ear. “I think you are about to doze off.” 

“Probably.” Crowley held out his hands with a lazy smile. “Pull me up. Let’s go to bed.”

Instead, the angel surprised him by scooping him up in his arms. When they climbed the stair, the rhythmic swaying made Crowley drowsy. He ruffled the blonde curls lovingly.

“I can fall asleep in your arms.” He murmured into his shoulder.

They fell onto the bed. For the first time, Aziraphale didn’t read. He turned off the light and cuddled him tenderly from behind. Crowley could feel his warm breath on his neck and his arms around him. He held the angel’s palm under his cheek as pillow, and slowly he drifted into dreams.

It was the sweetest dream.

In the dream he was sleeping, in a comfortable bed full of white feathers. The duvet was white as well. It was fluffy and light and cool. He was sleeping in the bed.

Aziraphale was there with him. He didn’t see him, but he knew he was there, because he could feel him. He was kissing him and touching him, and it felt like feathers brushing against his skin. He was kissing him on the lips, on the ear, and on the neck. He was touching him, too. His hands were feeling his body, remembering every curve of him. Crowley wanted to kiss back and touched back, but he was so tired he can’t even open his eyes, he could only lie in the softness, and feel, feel until the feeling became overwhelming, feel until the feeling became everything, everything.

He was sleeping, but still he saw. He saw a white bed, white feathers and white wings. It was so white that it shone. That’s all he remembered. 

It was the sweetest dream.

Crowley opened his eyes. The soft morning sunshine pour in fron the window. It was still early. He was in the old, not so comfortable bed in Aziraphale’s chamber. He was sure he heard something. That’s why he woke up, but now there was only silence and the distant hustle-bustle of the city.

The other half of the bed was empty. Aziraphale had gone. That was not uncommon of him. The angel doesn’t sleep. Maybe he got bored and went downstair. Crowley got up and found himself still dressed in his black T-shirt and shorts, as last night when he went to bed. He remembered vaguely about the dream, but still it made his heart flustered. He sat on the bed, hugging his knees, tried to recall some more details, but all he could remember is the white feathers of Aziraphale. Only the white feathers, and…… and his heart shuddered. He took a pillow and screamed into it. 

He couldn’t find his clothes anywhere in the chamber, so he wrapped himself up in a blanket and walked out the room.

“Aziraphale?” He yelled on the stair, blushing furiously at the same time. He almost had to sit down.

No one answered. Why? He was convinced he heard something. He walked downstair gingerly and found the angel standing in the backroom.

“You woke up.” Aziraphale said, embarrassed. “You usually sleep until noon.”

“I called you.” Crowley said accusingly. His knees were trembling. “Where did you put my clothes?”

“In the bedroom, why?”

“I couldn’t find them.”

“Well, go and look for them again.” Aziraphale suggested.

Crowley stood on the last step of the stairs, so he was a head taller, staring at Aziraphale. He wanted to ask him, but he didn’t know how. The angel acted as if nothing had happened, and it made him so angry. 

Aziraphale stood still. Normally he would come and hug him, or tease him, but now he simply stood there, waiting him to go upstairs. Crowley stared at him. Aziraphale was wearing his Victorian suits, his everyday clothes, but something doesn’t feel right. He didn’t have a book with him, so he wasn’t reading. What was he doing then? Crowley stepped down stair and circled the angel while glancing about the bookshop. He knew every inch of it, and he immediately found that there was a white paper bag behind the armchair. That was something new. 

“What’s that bag?” Crowley gestured with his head. “And were you going out?”

“I was going to buy us some breakfast.” 

Crowley waited for the first question to be answered, but the angel just looked at him all innocently. Also he seldom eats breakfast, so Aziraphale was most certainly lying. Defiantly, he walked straight to the white paper bag, but before he could grab it, Aziraphale stopped him:

“Don’t touch it.” 

It was short and straight-forward, almost like a command. 

“What? I can’t touch that bag?”

“Alright. You can touch the bag.” Aziraphale was a little irritated. “Please give it to me.”

“Not unless you tell me what’s inside.” 

Crowley took the bag. He didn’t look at its content, but from the feeling of it, one side weighted much heavier than the other. A water bottle? They continued to stare at each other. Neither of them spoke. 

“What’s this? Why can’t I touch it?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Tell me, or I’m gonna touch it. Right now.” Crowley threatened and prepared to reach his hand into the bag. Aziraphale bit his lips, then Crowley knew.

“Is it holy water?” His heart stopped.

“No, it’s not.”

“Then I’ll touch it.” Crowley hissed and raised his hand again.

The angel went pale. “Alright, it is, and it’s the holiest, so don’t touch. Now please, give it to me.”

Aziraphale approached and was about to snatch the bag. Crowley turned it upside down. All its content fell to the ground. A black Thermos was rolling on the carpet. Two pieces of black clothes, tidily folded, dropped onto the ground soundlessly. Crowley knew instantly those were his. The angel had taken his clothes, a bottle of holy water, and he was leaving for breakfast?

“You bastard.” Crowley yelled. “You fucking idiot.”

“I figure you wouldn’t agree.” Aziraphale said. He wasn’t angry. Crowley had never seen the angel raise his voice once. He was just displeased, because it didn’t go as planned.

Crowley remembered last night when Aziraphale asking where could he find Lucifer in Hell, and if he could stay for the night with him, he remembered the dream, the kiss. He was so furious he want to slap him, kick him or punch him in the face, to beat some fucking sense into him. His body thought quicker and had already slammed the angel onto the wall and raised a fist into air.

“Of course I would not agree you to die.” Crowley shouted into his face. “Do you mean that if I didn’t find out, if I didn’t  _ wake up _ in time, I…… ” 

“It worked last time.” Aziraphale shouted back, and instantly found that Crowley was struggling for air. He hold his shoulders and cooed: “Easy, dear, easy…… ”

Crowley managed to finish his sentence. It was constantly broken by his ragged breathing.

“...... I will never see you again?”

Aziraphale sighed. He led him to the sofa, but Crowley shook off his hand immediately. If Aziraphale was hurt, he didn’t show.

“It’s not what you thought.” Aziraphale spoke softly. “I’m not that stupid. Do you think I would do it at first attempt? I just want to go Down There, know my ways around the Hell. That’s all. You don’t have to be so worried.”

“Then what?” Crowley demanded. 

“Well…… waiting for opportunities perhaps.”

“You don’t need any holy water for that. Last time you visit Hell you didn’t take it. If you want to go to Hell and know the environment, leave the holy water here.”

“What if I was found out?” 

More reason you should leave it here. Crowley wanted to say. Taking a bottle of holy water would only make others suspect you. Plus, what good are a bottle of holy water, when you have all the demons in Hell after you? And why would you ever be found out, when last time we swap no one suspect a thing? 

Crowley wants to shout all those reasons at him, but he knows Aziraphale would calmly argue with him and deny them one by one, and he will pick up everything he needs and does whatever the hell he wants. Doesn’t he understand the plan will have him killed?

“You are so clever. How can somebody as clever as you be so stupid?”

Aziraphale simply looked at him with cold blue eyes. And for the first time, Crowley found that Aziraphale was in rage. It was a quiet rage, like the undercurrent of the sea. That’s why he never noticed it before. It was shown in his eyes for a mere second, but Crowley knew that his mind was set, and nothing could change it. He cannot sway him.

“You are just angry.” Crowley argued feebly. “You are not thinking straight.”

“Perhaps.” Aziraphale simply picked up the Thermos, the clothes, gathered them in the bag, and walked out the backroom.

“Hold on. Where do you think you’re going.” Crowley stopped him before the door. “You are not going anywhere.”

Aziraphale just reasoned patiently: “If I don’t go now, I can still go tomorrow.”

“Listen to me, you bastard.” Crowley snapped. “If you don’t come back, I will go to Heaven and die. How do you like that, huh?”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. Crowley’s heart lit up. It’s working. 

“Now you better stick around me all the time. Day and night. You understand? If I find you missing, I swear------”

Aziraphale murmured to himself: “We could swap.”

“Are you fucking listening to me, angel?”

“No, you listen to me. We could swap!” Aziraphale grabbed at Crowley’s shoulders in excitement. “If Heaven and Hell couldn’t tell us apart, neither could Lucifer. He would think me as you, and you would be safe!”

Crowley short circuits. 

“No, it’s a terrible idea. You are not solving the problem at all!” He stumbled through the words wildly. “Is it your brilliant idea, to let him assault you instead? How does that help the situation? I mean. I’m not putting you in danger, because you think I can’t take care of myself. In fact, I know him so much better than you do. I can handle everything myself perfectly. There’s no need for you to get involved…… ”

Aziraphale couldn’t help but to chuckle. Crowley looked at him in horror.

“Oh no, my dear. He would never get the chance to assault me.” Aziraphale smiled wickedly, and he picked up the black Thermos. “Actually, I can’t wait to splash the damn thing onto his face.”

Crowley couldn’t persuade the angel to drop the idea. Truth be told it was indeed brilliant. When facing someone way more stronger than two of them combined, the only possible way was to take them by surprise. It might really work, but there is always the chance that it doesn’t, and it’s driving him crazy. What if he fails? Throughout the day Aziraphale paid him no mind, no matter how he yelled, how he begged. He swore and he cried to no avail. The angel was so carried away by the idea. Crowley tried to quarrel with him, but it felt like talking to a brick wall. 

“Would you mind taking a bottle of holy water with you?” Aziraphale asked. “A low-grade one, I mean. You can keep it in the Bentley.”

“Not unless you stop this folly.”

Crowley was expecting the angel to argue with him, if he could make a deal with him…… 

But the angel just shook his head and dropped the topic.

They had swapped the appearance. The angel had peaceful said that if he doesn’t agree, they could always go for plan B, the original plan.

“Don’t you hear me?” Crowley hissed. “I will go to Heaven and die.”

“Only if I don’t come back.” Aziraphale shrugged. Crowley was most certain that he did it on purpose, and it’s working. “And I most certainly will come back. That’s the whole point.” He held out his hand.

“Swap?”

The last time they did this was because both of them were in danger, and the swapping kept both of them safe. This time, it’s different. They did this because the angel would rather die than seeing him hurt, but Crowley couldn’t bare to put a loved one in danger, either, but what choice does he have?

He took the hand.

He had failed God when he fell. It hurt. It’s a dull, throbbing pain that could carve the heart out. It’s a hollow in the chest. An emptiness that can never be fulfilled. A deep desire to love but cannot. It’s a loss of one’s other half. A loss of self. He had forgotten what it felt like, until now, when they held hands. He had failed God. Now once again he had failed Aziraphale, his angel, who is now going to a place so haughty that he can never reach. He wants to stand by his side, to protects him, and to keep him safe, but on the contrary Aziraphale had taken over his burden. A burden so heavy that shall never be shared.

He had failed his angel.

The swapping was done in a second. Crowley looked at the angel. It felt like looking at a mirror, or to have a twin brother all of a sudden. He still haven’t gotten used to it from the last time. The angel seemed to feel the same, he examined his new slim body and ruffled through the new dark hair. He’s rather cheerful, now finally his plan was carried out.

“Alright, I think nothing’s wrong.” The angel then examined the demon’s new Victorian suits contentedly and gave him a hug. “It’s so weird, hugging yourself.”

“Mmm.” Crowley felt his heart sinking, deeper and deeper.

“It’s not going to make any difference, though.” The angel mused, lightly biting his thumb.

“Why?” Crowley asked.

“He hasn’t shown up lately. Maybe I should go out alone at night, to see if I have any luck…… ”

Crowley pulled the angel into his arms desperately. Aziraphale was surprised. 

“You are not going anywhere without me, you hear me?” Crowley’s voice was trembling. He hold him so tight as if afraid he might vanish. “We are not going out. We are not leaving the bookshop. I will watch you around the clock if I have to. You are not the only one that doesn’t sleep.”

“Crowley…… ” The demon’s warmth surrounded him. It was intoxicating. Despite his reasons, Aziraphale felt himself melting. “You are not solving the problem…… ”

“I don’t want to solve the problem. I want you.” 

Crowley grabbed his hair and kissed him. The kiss quickly turned into something more passionate. 

_ It was inappropriate _ , Aziraphale wanted to say,  _ we were in the backroom _ . 

But there were no customers, since he had closed the bookshop for the day. There were only the two of them, alone…… And everything, everything felt so fierce and rough, like a midnight storm. Everything was dark and wild, except the demon. His every touch was the lightning that pierces through the dark, the flames that burn away the shadow. It was frightening. It was beautiful.

Aziraphale embraced it.

#

Night. 

That’s what Aziraphale first thought. But, no. It wasn’t night. It was merely an absence of light. The darkness. The darkness surrounded him, but it was not darkness, either. He was not seeing. He was drifting in time.

The sense that first woke up is touch. He was lying down, somewhere, embraced by this coziness. It was not the finest silk, but it was soft and familiar. He was in the cloud. He remembered briefly about Heaven, and was confused when finding himself on the solid ground. He couldn’t recall what happened. Slowly his mind started to work, and he realized there was a human term perfect for the situation.

He was slowly coming back to consciousness.

The first thing he saw was the demon. He was lying by his side, propped up by the elbows, gazing at him.

“You were sleeping.” He said.

Their clothes were…… disarranged, and everything came back to him. He blushed.

“How long had I slept?” 

“Not long.”

“Oh.” The sleeping. It felt a little confusing.

The demon kissed him again, leisurely tracing the outline of his shoulder. 

“Not here.” Aziraphale sat up straight, pulling his shirt together. They were lying between the sofa and the table, on the carpet. All of this was so unlike him. He wanted to get dressed and sat back onto the sofa, but this intimacy was so precious and enchanting, and he kept still.

#

Lucifer would laugh so hard.

He would smile while shaking his head, saying:

“That angel is braver than I thought, but that’s what they are good for, wasn’t it? Unconditional love. They are willing to do anything for you. No wonder you like him so much.”

His name is Aziraphale.

“I know.” Lucifer would shrug, and he would ask: “Do you prefer him or me? I always wonder. It reflects what kind of person you are.”

You want to say that, if I love Aziraphale, it means that I prefer unconditional love, that I was afraid of being refused?

“So you know.” Lucifer was delighted.

And therefore, it means that I am selfish.

“But I always think you to love me better.” Lucifer was confident. “You are different from the others. I have taught you a lot.”

What does it mean then, if I prefer you?

“What do you think?”

You tell me.

“It means that,” Lucifer pondered. “That you recognize your flaws, your shortcomes, your imperfections, and therefore, your true self."

We are the fallen.

“We are the same.” Lucifer agreed. “And truth be told, I don’t think the angel really love you. If he did, it would only because he takes pity on you, or it’s his duty.”

That’s horrible.

“But true.” Lucifer said. “Now that you finally hear me out, can you please stop this folly?”

The swaping?

“Of course. It was quite unfair. How come the angel could have you all, while I have to die if I don’t give up?”

“It really upset me.”

“And what if the angel dies?”

What if Aziraphale dies?

“Don’t get distracted. I’m talking to you.” Lucifer frowned. “It’s not my fault. I will be self-defending. Why did you ever drag him into this? He really has a talent of complicating things. Now that I made my point, I think someone was calling you.”

What? 

A third voice broke in:

“Mr. Fell? Hello, Mr. Fell?”

It took Crowley a while to come back. A customer was smiling at him, holding a book. He was at the checkout counter, in the bookshop.

“Sorry, I was miles away.” Crowley apologized, as the angel would do.

He and Aziraphale had stayed in the bookshop for a week. It was not much of a plan, but more like a horrible compromise of their respective ideas: Aziraphale’s desire to protect him, and his wish that the angel stays safe. The end result became that they swapped while staying in the bookshop all the time, which is quite boring.

“It seems that we have been grounded by our own foolishness.” The angel had joked, but the joke was rather honest. 

In the beginning it was not that boring. Crowley learned a lot of things, like how to scare away the customers and how to maintain the bookshop and so on, but that was before he got used to it. Now life was just intolerable. It would really help if he could get some sleep, but whenever he lies down, he heard the voice again.

He didn’t know when it started. After the swapping, perhaps, but he was not sure. How can he be sure of anything when he was so messed up by it? The voice just stuck in his head, kept talking. It happened once before, before he came to Earth, before he became Crowley. He didn’t realize it was a problem at that time. In fact, it was an advantage, to know what the Devil would think.

Lucifer was an intelligent and eloquent speaker. There was a time when Crowley was amazed by his speech, when he admired him. Crowley loved asking questions, and Lucifer seemed to always have the answers. Sometimes they would spend days discussing, but most of the time it was just Lucifer talking, while he listening. Maybe that’s when the voice crept into his mind, and stay there forever.

To think that it would always be part of him, it was disgusting.

“It’s not my fault you’re not strong enough.” Lucifer said nonchalantly.

The voice was the loudest when he was alone. It could go on and on and on, and hours would fly by, and it’s morning before he knew it. He should tell Aziraphale, but the voice told him not to, and in the end he didn’t.

“The angel cares for you so much.” Lucifer spoke softly. “At least you could spare him this?”

He had tried to argue with it. He knew it was not Lucifer. Everything was just in his own head, but what’s the difference? He  _ knew  _ that’s what Lucifer would say, and he had been persuaded, again, like he always did.

But even on this he failed. Much to Crowley’s distress, Aziraphale still noticed it. He knew something was wrong, but he didn’t know what was it. 

“My dear,” Aziraphale said in the end. “Do you want to swap back?”

Crowley knew the angel must be terribly worried to suggest it, but he shook his head. He didn’t want to cause anymore trouble.

The angel finally found that he can’t sleep. Normally Aziraphale would go to bed with him, cuddle him until he fall asleep, and go downstairs, but now the voice in his head kept him awake at night. The angel didn’t know about that, however, because Crowley had kept himself still when lying in bed. He thought that if he lies very still, he could sleep in the end. It never works.

One night, all of a sudden, he heard the voice laughing.

He ran out the bedroom in a confused horror and nearly rolled down the stair. Aziraphale was shocked, and even more so when he found Crowley wasn’t drowsy from the supposed sleep. Crowley, on the contrary, felt himself rather drowsy, that’s why he almost told Aziraphale everything after a series of frightened questioning. After that Aziraphale spent all night talking with him. Every night. He would talk until the sun rises or until Crowley was so tired that he fell asleep, and during the day he had never left his side. When there were many customers he was kept busy, but when it was a quiet day, Aziraphale would keep talking with him, like he did in the night. 

One morning, Crowley woke up and found that the sunshine was bright, and the air was fresh. The chirping outside wasn’t annoying anymore.

He asked the angel:

“How long had we stayed in the bookshop?” He had lost track of time.

“Nearly a month.”

He can’t stand it any longer.

“Angel, are you sure you want to do this?” 

“More than anything.”

Crowley bit his lips.

“If so, I can call him up here myself.”

#

Aziraphale had been keeping an eye on the demon the whole month.

In the beginning, he was just worried that he would have trouble running the bookshop, or accidentally sell some of his rare book, but it turned out that the demon knows the bookshop as well as he is. And after that, things started to change.

Mainly, Crowley started to change.

He used to talk a lot and laugh a lot. Now, after they closed the shop, he simply went to the backroom and lied down. At first, Aziraphale thought that he was reading or watching films, since he always had a book or phone with him, until later he noticed that the page wasn’t turning. 

Crowley was just drifting off.

“What were you doing, dear?”

“Just thinking.” 

Then he found that Crowley could drift off in the middle of a meal, when he was making coffee, or simply everytime when he caught him alone.

“What were you thinking, dear?”

“Nothing.” Crowley would shrug and change the subject.

It was certainly not nothing, but Crowley wouldn’t talk. Aziraphale started to think that the swapping might be a mistake. It puts too much pressure on him and doesn’t really do them any good. Maybe they should just do what Crowley wants, and they could go out after they swap back. Some distractions could really help at this point. 

But Crowley wouldn’t swap back, either. Aziraphale carefully brought back the topic once or twice. The last time Crowley was really annoyed by it, so he could only drop it.

It was until one night when Crowley rolled down the stairs and told him everything, that he realized what had happened, and after that he stayed with him all the time, distracting him, keeping him companied. He never left him alone.

Then one morning, Crowley offered to call Lucifer up here himself.

"You can do that?" Aziraphale was suddenly unsure.

Crowley nodded: “I can’t stand him any longer. He has to go.”

It was quite easy. Crowley had introduced Down There to the use of electricity, so basically he just turned on the radio and had a quick word with Dagon, and everything was settled.

“Now we just have to wait. He will come up here in his own time.” Crowley said after turning off the radio. His voice was trembling. Aziraphale would have take him into his arms, but his hands were shaking, too. 

#

Time pass slower when waiting. Hours unfolded into days, days into seasons.

They sat together in the sofa, waiting. Aziraphale was holding the black Thermos. Crowley was biting his fingers. There’s nothing else they could do. They could only wait. Aziraphale was so nervous he felt he was about to throw up. It felt like waiting to die. He never knew that he could be so afraid.

“I will go open the bookshop.” Crowley said. “To make everything looks normal.”

“Good idea.” Aziraphale said.

Neither moved. Aziraphale felt paralyzed. Crowley must have felt the same.

“I really should go.” Crowley said.

“Yep.”

And they sat still in the sofa, then Crowley took a deep breath:

“Angel, if anything goes wrong, listen to me, okay?”

"Okay."

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“If anything goes wrong, run as fast as possible. Run back to Heaven if you have to.” Crowley said. “You are the only one in danger here. I’m fine with him.”

Aziraphale knew that he was right, and he hated it.

“Promise me?”

“Promise.”

Crowley was uncertain. It was all too easy.

“You run when I tell you to run.”

”No.” Aziraphale said. “I run when it becomes too dangerous.”

“That’s my point. I’ll tell you when to run.”

“I’ll run when I want to run.”

Crowley hissed, but no word came out. Aziraphale just stared into space. 

They sat together in the sofa, waiting.

#

They knew he arrived when he finally did. They could sense his aura from afar. 

It was late in the night.

The aura of the King of Hell was confident and charming. It was very different from what Aziraphale had expected. But when he came closer and closer, the aura turned into something powerful, intimidating and suffocating.

“He’s here.” Crowley said. They both stood up and walked out the backroom.

Lucifer was in the bookshop, admiring the angel’s rare books. He turned when he heard them, and he smiled. His feature was vague in the dark, but he had beautiful white teeth, and his voice was deep and smooth.

“You must be Aziraphale.” Lucifer held out his hand to Crowley. “I heard so much about you.”

Crowley held hands with him nervously.

“Glad that he had someone to look after him up here, and who would be better to watch over him than an angel! I would love to sit down and get to know you, if you don’t mind, but, well.” He studied the frightened expression contentedly. “Maybe next time.”

Lucifer then gestured at Aziraphale. 

“Here.” He said, as one might call a dog.

The angel was shocked. How dare he just walk into his bookshop and acted as if nothing had happened? How dare he just take Crowley out like this after all the things he had done? And how dare he just do it right before him as if he was nothing? The angel stared at him in disbelief.

Lucifer frowned. He disliked this attitude.

“Where’s your manner?” Lucifer said. Behind him, Crowley cringed at the words.

Aziraphale felt his heart pounding. This is the moment. Everything was slowed down and lagged in time. He walked up to him while unscrewing the Thermos. When did his fingers become so clumsy? His sweaty hands could hardly held the bottle. Lucifer was frowning at him, his handsome red eyes alerted. Then he looked down at the black Thermos, just in time to saw it. The water traveled through mid air before broke into numerous droplets. Aziraphale could see every drop of it glittering. They caught the lamplight from outside the street and glowed like diamonds in the dark. In the middle of the droplets were the pair of the wine red eyes. He was just two steps from Lucifer. It had to work.

He should put the water in a plant mister. The thought struck him, but it didn’t matter anymore.

For a moment the angel couldn’t see anything. There were just white, hot mist swirling before him, with Lucifer engulfed in it. Did it work? He had never done it before. The ground was dry. Was it supposed to be like this? Where did the mist come from? Then he saw sparkles of flames flickered behind the screen of mist, and the shadow of a man. When it was dismissed completely, Lucifer was standing there, smiling, unharmed. The Devil blew out the remaining flames on his fingertip.

_ Hellfire _ .

The white mist. That was the holy water evaporating into thin air. Not a single drop had touched the skin of the Devil. 

“You think you two are so clever, that you could swap without people noticing, because you have identical aura.” Lucifer spoke in a lazy tone. “I have to confess that I almost fell for it. It was indeed brilliant, but there are other ways to identify a person aside from appearance and aura.” Lucifer looked at Aziraphale in the eyes, who stared back. He smiled: “Crowley would never dare to look me in the eyes.” 

Aziraphale looked back at Crowley. He was timidly looking at the floor. 

“Now, if you two could swap back, I would like to take the little demon here out with me.”

With a snap of finger, Lucifer swapped them back.

“It’s very interesting talking to you. Now. Goodbye.” Lucifer gestured at Crowley. The demon came to his side obediently, eyes looking down. Lucifer walked out first, Crowley followed behind him. Before he left, Crowley sneaked a look at the angel. He pointed downwards and mouthed:

_ Stay _ .

Aziraphale freezed. They left. Just like that. As if he was nothing. It had all been his faults. If only he had listened to Crowley, just let everything goes away. He should be the one being harmed. What would Lucifer do to Crowley? He ran out the door. They were about to get in the Bentley.

“Wait!” The angel yelled. He didn’t have a plan. He didn’t have any holy water left. He didn’t know what was he doing when he seized Lucifer by the collar and pushed him angrily against the Bentley.

“You are not taking him anywhere.” He shouted.

Lucifer just laughed, like a maniac, like he had never seen anything so funny, and he turned to Crowley:

“What do you say?”

Crowley quickly untangled the angel’s hands from Lucifer. “It’s alright, angel. Just go back. I’m fine with this, really.” He rubbed his hands gently, drawing circles into his palm. “Hey, look at me.”

But Aziraphale wasn’t looking at him. He was glaring at Lucifer, who was looking at him up and down with immense interest, like a child who found a new toy.

“You never knew fear, don’t you?” Lucifer asked. “I can’t see it in your eyes.”

Crowley pushed the angel hurriedly, but he wouldn’t move an inche: “Go. You promised to listen to me. Remember? Just go, please.”

“Hold on a second.” Lucifer smiled when he grabbed the angel by the shoulder. They were expecting hellfire, perhaps, but there was no miracle sensed, nor heat. Something shined in his hand. Before Aziraphale realized what it is, it was buried into him. Ice pierced through his warm body, cold against his internal. It left a burning sensation. Air escaped his lungs. He couldn’t breathe. Something hot was pouring out, flowing all over him. Aziraphale slowly collapsed onto the ground. The last thing he saw was Lucifer smiling at him. 

“Stay, and watch.” He said.

#

Crowley threw himself by the angel, hands pressing against the wound in panic.

“Angel? Sorry, sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

He pressed his fingers on the left part of the chest, but the blood kept gushing out from between his fingers, and he couldn’t keep the hands in place. They were shaking too hard. He was useless. He could see life gushing out the body, wave by wave. It was because of the heart beats, Crowley remembered. It was sticky and hot, and it smelled of rusty iron. Within minutes, the blood pooled beneath his knees, and soaked up his pants. He could see his reflection beneath him. 

_ How can there be so much blood?  _ Crowley thought dully.  _ Why don’t it stop?  _

But it did stop in the end. Each wave was weaker and slower than the previous. Until no more blood was pouring out. 

“You can let go now. It had bled out.”

Crowley let go. He wasn’t dare to look at the angel’s eyes, but he was looking at them, and he couldn’t take his eyes off. They were lifeless and unfocused. Crowley wanted to cup the angel’s cheeks, but his hands were covered in blood. He didn’t want to stain his face. He wiped his hands on himself, but the blood just wouldn’t come off, no matter how many times he wiped them, they were still red, and he cried in frustration, because he couldn’t cup the angel’s cheeks.

“You do realize that I’ve only discorporated him? And I did it in the heart. You could thank me later.”

Crowley had thought that it was the voice in his head, until he looked up and realized that Lucifer was with him.

“Why will I thank you?” Crowley asked, voice full of pain and hatred.

Lucifer blinked. “This lively spirit becomes you. Had anyone told you that?”

“Why did you do this? He was no threat to you.”

Lucifer explained: “I wants him to stay around and watch. It won’t be possible if he was in corporeal form.”

“Watch what?”

"This."

The next thing Crowley knew, he had been thrown into the backseat of the Bentley. Lucifer climbed in after him. Crowley tried to kick him out, but Lucifer dragged him by the foot and had he lie flat on the back before he straddled him. In panic, Crowley’s wings bursted through his back and filled the space with feathers. He flapped his wings, but there wasn’t much use. 

Lucifer’s red eyes glowed in excitement while he pinned the demon beneath him. He whispered in his ears: “I really don’t mind this. It reminded me of the first time I have you. You haven’t changed a bit.”

With one hand he clenched him by the throat, another hand wandered about his body, ripping off his clothes. It was becoming harder and harder to breathe. His lung was on fire. He grabbed at Lucifer’s clenching fist and kicked at the air in panic, but he was way more stronger than he was. Then his fingers were growing weaker and weaker, until they slipped down, hanging lifeless down the seat. His legs could only give a few feeble twitches. After his vision was blurred out, Lucifer finally let go. Crowley gasped for air. The first few breaths hurt.

Lucifer flipped him over and pressed against him. 

“I hope the angel was watching us. I did this to entertain him.”

Crowley tried to get up, but the world was spinning. He could hardly tell which way is up. Lucifer had laid his weight upon his body, making it even harder to breathe. He cursed under breath.

“What did you say?”

"Fuck…… fuck you…… "

Lucifer laughed and sat back. He took Crowley’s wings in each of his hands.

“You shouldn’t unfold them here.” He complained playfully. “The feathers are all twisted and broken. I had loved them so much.”

Then he started to feel the underneath of his wings. He started from the tip of the feather to the middle part, where he scratched and messed with the feathers, and he caressed the base where the wings jointed into his back. Crowley shivered. It was the most sensitive part of the wings. When folded, it was always close to his body and cannot be touched by the others, except Aziraphale. Sometimes they draped each other in wings when they were in bed…… 

Aziraphale. The smell of his blood was still hung in the air. It was all over himself.

Although lying flat on his stomach, straddled by the Devil, Crowley was suddenly not afraid. The worst possible thing had happened. No, the worst possible thing was that Aziraphale was consumed by Hellfire, which can never happen when he was discorporated while Lucifer stayed in corporeal form. Aziraphale was safe. And Lucifer can never hurt him. There’s nothing to lose.

For the first time since he fell, he was not afraid of him, and his heart was filled with cold rage, the urge to revenge.

Crowley beat his wings, trying to get up, but Lucifer was sitting on him. He laughed and pressed him down again. Then he bowed down and tried to kiss him. Crowley turned his head and bit. Lucifer quickly withdrew.

“Hey. That was close.” He was finally displeased, and he grabbed him by the hair. Crowley struggled and twisted, and nearly fell down the seat. 

That’s when Crowley saw it. Beneath the driver’s seat lied a bottle of Thermos, not the black one, the tartan stripe one, the low-grade one the angel kept nagging him about. He reached out for the bottle, unscrewed it. A drop spilled out on his hand, but before his brain could process the pain, he had splashed its contain blindly overhead.

Most of the holy water was splashed onto himself, and it burned like acid. His wings had caught most of it as well, and countless little holes were burnt through. He twisted and fell beneath the seat. Pain took over his mind and became everything he knew. He passed out screaming. 

Not long after, he woke up to pain again. He was lying on the floor of the backseat. Lucifer had gone. Crowley didn’t know how bad he hurt, but certainly not as bad as he is. He examined himself. It looked like he was burned. He tried to heal himself with a miracle, but it didn’t work. It’s holy water. It didn’t hurt as bad as he thought, though. 

He sat up and let out a groan. His left wing was sprained. He fixed it with another miracle, but it still hurt like hell. Fuck the holy water. He won’t be able to fold it beneath for weeks.

It was a mess inside the Bentley. Feathers, drops of holy water everywhere. Crowley accidentally put his hand on another drop and it stung. Some threatened to drip from the ceiling at any second. It must had gotten there when he beat his wings in pain. He sat still for a while, don’t know what to do. 

Then he remembered.

He climbed out the Bentley, wings dragging behind him. The angel was still lying lifelessly on the ground. The blood had condensed into something like jam. The humans weren’t alerted yet. He had to do it quickly, otherwise there will be loads of trouble when Aziraphale finally returned with a new body. Crowley cleaned the scene with a snap of finger. No blood was left. The horrible smell still lingered in the air, but hopefully the night wind will take them away. 

He took the body into his arms and carried it into the bookshop. He had all the curtains drawn. The smell of blood followed him into the bookshop. Crowley frowned until he found the smell was coming from himself. There are smears of blood all over his clothes. He glared at them until they were gone.

He laid down the body on the sofa and healed it as carefully as possible. Maybe the angel would come back and retake it, but deep down he knew no such thing is going to happen. So many harm was done, the loss of blood. The lack of oxygen could do terrible harm to the brain. This body won’t function anymore. Aziraphale has to go through all the paper works in Heaven before he could came back. 

“Bastard!” Crowley cursed from between his teeth.

#

Crowley closed the angel’s eyes. He looked as if he had just fell asleep, which he never did.

He then wrapped a blanket around Aziraphale. He didn’t know why he did this, but he sat down by the sofa and laid his head beside him, and he started to weep. This was childish, he knew about that. Aziraphale is still there, and he will most certainly come back after all the boring paper works. They are not humans. They know for sure that Heaven and Hell exist, and souls are real, but there was something so unspeakably horrible about seeing a dead body. A moment later you were talking and laughing, and now he had gone. He fell into a forever sleep. He is here and he is not. You could hug him and talk to him and tell him how much you love him and miss him, but he was not there to hear or to feel. He was left alone.

But it felt like he could wake up at any time, and everything would be alright. 

Crowley stood up and walked around the backroom. He made a cup of hot cocoa and put it on the table, and he found a few of Aziraphale’s favourite books. He wanted to put one in the angel’s hand, but it was starting to get stiff. It horrified Crowley, so he just lay one book on his chest and hugged the rest in his arms. They smelled of Aziraphale. He sat by the angel’s side again, laying his head beside him, and spreaded out his right wing to cover him. He spread his wing slowly and stiffly. He thought his left wing hurt worse, but his right wing was no better. Broken feathers, stained with dry blood, fell down like autumn leaves. Wounds were torn. Fresh blood soaked through the remaining feathers, but there wasn’t much blood and it didn’t drip, so Crowley was fine with this.

He didn’t know why he did any of this. He knew it was stupid, but it made him feel as if the angel was still here with him, that he was still alive, and it made him feel safe and calm.

The angel probably won’t come back in spiritual form. From what he heard of it, it required possessing lots of people before coming back to the correct continent. Last time he only did this because there was no other way.

Crowley thought about this before he slowly fell into a dreamless sleep. 

He woke up early the next morning. He cried a while when he saw the angel. He thought it was a nightmare. He  _ wished  _ it was a nightmare. Then he scolded himself for being such a idiot and forced himself to get up.

His whole body was sore and weary, because he had fell asleep while sitting by the sofa, but that was nothing comparing to the pain. The pain of the wounds caused by holy water had finally kicked in, but at this moment, Crowley was only grateful that there was something else to distract him from the sofa in the backroom.

He walked to the bathroom and took of his clothes. Some clothes were stuck to the wounds. He tried to soak it with water to see if the clothes would come off themselves, but he ran out of patience and just tore them off. It hurt terribly, but also refreshing. It felt like a slap in the face, a bottle of cold water down the head, or when you eat something so spicy that you woke up all of a sudden. Crowley tore them off one by one, with a horrible pleasure, then he treated them and wrapped them up in bandage, then he changed into fresh clothes.

He stayed upstairs. He had to make some serious decision now. He could only do it upstairs, where he can’t see it.

He had to dispose the body. That’s what he should do. The body would start to decompose in a few days. Even if it doesn’t, it was fucking creepy if he just keep it around. 

“Aziraphale will laugh if he knew about all this.” Crowley spoke loudly to himself. “Anyway, it’s not that he never got discorporated. I got discorporated several times, too. It’s no big deal.”

He walked down stairs, but when he saw the angel, he cried again. It felt different from the previous time, when sometimes they got discorporated out of their own stupidity, or some accident. Crowley couldn’t imagine what it feels like to get stabbed. It must be horrible. He wondered if the angel was alright.

After he disposed the body, he sat into the angel’s armchair. He made another cup of hot cocoa, and gathered some more old books around him. He hold the angel’s clothes in his arms, wrapped himself in blanket, and cried himself to sleep. 

When he woke up again, it was late evening. 

The sofa was empty. The angel was not here. It felt like he just went out and will quickly return. Crowley knew for sure he will, and he felt much better.

He had drooled when he fell asleep. It was all over Aziraphale’s Victorian suits. He miracled it away and smelled carefully. That would do. The angel wouldn’t notice it.

Crowley cleaned up the backroom. He picked up all his feathers and wiped away the blood. He put all the books onto the table and washed up the two cups of cocoa he made, which was no longer hot, before he made another cup of it. Then he sat down again. It was the first time he could think clearly.

It seems that Lucifer won’t come back again, not in a short while. It was weird. He couldn’t have hurt that badly, or maybe he just go and prey on other easier targets. He has to be ready when he comes back again.

This thought startled Crowley. When did he start to think like this? He had taken Lucifer as an enemy, and was ready to confront him when he reappeared again. In the past, he would just accepted, be done with it, and tried to forget afterwards.

Whatever changed him, it doesn’t matter.

He needs some holy water.

Now that he comes to think of it, he wondered when had Aziraphale sneaked the Thermos into the Bentley. He must have done that due to the fact that he drives everywhere, so it would have greater chance that things happen when he was in or close to the Bentley.

Crowley stood up and walked to the angel’s desk. He remembered the first time the angel proposed to give him the Thermos. He had taken it from a lower drawer. He messed through Aziraphale’s stuff. 

Most of the drawers were full of stationary, notebooks, or written papers. Some of them looked like garbage to Crowley. Aziraphale should spend some time clean up this mess.

The last drawer he opened was deeper, and empty, except for a piece of paper. It must be this one. Crowley sighed. It seemed that Aziraphale had prepared only two bottles, and it was all used up.

Crowley picked up the piece of paper. He thought that it was a shop list of books, or the note he took while reading, but it turned out to be an envelope. Within there was an letter.

It was adressed to  _ him _ . Crowley opened it curiously.

_ My dearest, Crowley: _

_ If you found this note, then you were probably looking for some holy water. Glad you did, but I had placed it in your Bentley already, since I was afraid that the time may come when you need it but didn’t have it around you. I know it’s not likely that you will need it in the Bentley, but it was less likely that you will need it here, in my bookshop. _

_ Also, if you found this note, it’s probably that I didn’t return in time as I had planned, and I am deeply sorry about that. However, don’t worry too much. I will figure my way back in the end. Still I think that I owed you an explanation. _

_ You might have noticed that your clothes were gone. It’s because I have taken it, along with a bottle of holy water and went to Hell, with your appearance. If possible, I would like to talk with Lucifer and strike a deal with him. Hopefully he would leave us alone forever. If I failed, that’s why I took the holy water with me. From my experiences last time visited Hell, it shall save me from all harm. _

_ You may question my decision. I know it was risky, and there’s always the possibility that I fail to return, but considering all that you went through, I think the danger I am about to face was a bargain, if it could free you from all harm in the future. _

_ If I shall fail, I know that I don’t deserve it, but still I ask for your forgiveness. _

_ My most affectionate love _

_ Aziraphale _

Crowley put the letter back. He cursed angrily while wiping his tears, which he thought he had finally stopped.

“You idiot. Liar. I knew you were not planning to come back. Fuck you.”


	2. Chapter 2

He came back after another three days.

It was early in the morning. Crowley was lying in the bed. He wasn’t sleeping. He was listening to the rain outside. He had get used to Aziraphale lying beside him, and he really didn’t feel like to sleep without him. So he was just lying in the bed, thinking.

He remember there was one time, when it was particularly cold during the winter, he got a cramp in his calf in the middle of the night. He was deep in sleep. Although the cramp really hurt, it didn’t quite wake him up. Actually he didn’t quite get what had happened, so he was just whining in the bed, waiting for it to stop. Perhaps it was really quite. That’s why Aziraphale heard him. He heard footsteps run upstairs and the door open. The next thing he knew, the angel was grabbing his foot and stretching his calf. After the cramp went away, Crowley fell back to sleep again, but he remembered the angel snuggling into the bed beside him.

He forgot it when he woke up, but remembered it when later in the evening. Aziraphale never mentioned it, and he never brought it up.

Lightning shone through the room. For a moment it was all white. Crowley counted the second until he heard the thunder. He never quite get why human does it.

He wondered what it would feel like to fly in such an evil condition. He would like to try, out of boredom, but his wings were in no condition to do such thing. They are still healing, so he could just imagine.

Nowadays he and Aziraphale seldom flew. There was always the danger of being spotting by humans. They only flew when necessary, and the transportation was becoming more and more convenient. They seldom flies nowadays.

It occurred to Crowley that he had never flew with the angel. He was always flying somewhere, for some missions, that he never just flew out of joy. He never flew with Aziraphale before. Crowley smiled. He had a lot of time to make up to that. They can go to some country side, where there weren’t many people. They can go to seaside…… 

Night was longer than day. During day he watched the passers-by on the street. He could tell that they were hurrying to work, that they were buying lunch, that they were going home. Time was flowing. During night it wasn’t. It felt as if it could last forever. These were such boring days. Waiting was so boring. He didn’t know when will Aziraphale come back, but he couldn’t bring his mind to anything else, either. So he just spent his time thinking about Aziraphale, the things that they did, the things that they are going to do. 

He remembered another one. Then he chuckled softly to himself.

#

He didn’t think about Lucifer. Didn’t want to, and didn’t care to. Maybe he did think about him once or twice, but he dismissed the thought quickly.

He used to take it naturally, but not happily, of course. He just accepted his inferior, his duty. Now that he came to think of it, how was he any different from the rest of other demons? What will they do if Lucifer imposes the same fate upon them? Well, probably some of them would succumb, like he did. That’s what happens in Hell, but there will also be lots of others that fight back, one way or another. He wondered why he never realized that. He had been wrong all his life, and now it feels like weight was lifted from his shoulders, his mind was clear. 

#

Crowley didn’t open the bookshop. He didn’t feel like to, and there was no need, but occasionally there were still some unsure knocking on the door. Some would even tried the handle. He simply ignored them.

But no one had ever tried the handle in the middle of the night. Crowley heard the door opened. For a second he was at loss. He stood up hesitantly, suppressing his heart racing. Can it be what he think? He had been waiting for so long. He didn’t want to raise his hope to nothing. He had to stay calm. It doesn’t feel real. Then……

The voice of Aziraphale.

“Crowley?” The voice was worried and unsure.

Crowley ran down stairs. Aziraphale was there! It’s him! Crowley knew he must be smiling like a idiot. He threw himself into the angel’s arms. He nearly knocked him off. Well, actually he did.

“‘Zira!” He yelled. “Welcome home!”

“You are fine!” Aziraphale replied, trying to get up, but Crowley tangled himself around him like a snake, so he was drawn back to the ground. 

“I was worried about you.” The angel said. “You went through so much yourself.”

“That holy water saved my life, you clever bastard!” Crowley kept kissing Aziraphale blindly on the cheek, then he remembered. “By the way, I found your goodbye letter.” 

Crowley pouted, glaring at Aziraphale.

“I forgot to take it away.” Aziraphale said embarrassedly. “You see. So much had happened afterwards…… “

“You  _ forgot. _ ” Crowley said. “Is that all you have to say?”

“Well, yes……”

Before Aziraphale could finish his sentence, Crowley stopped him talking by kissing him on the lips, then he sighed. “I am too happy to be angry with you now.”

Crowley lay contentedly beside Aziraphale. The angel finally had the opportunity to speak.

“Crowley, your wings…… ”

“Oh, yeah. Holy water splashed on them.”

He was unable to fold his wings, so he had been dragging them around the bookshop. The feathers were poking out in all kind of directions. It was a complete mess.

“Do they still hurt?”

“It’s been days. I kind of get used to it.”

“Lie down, on your stomach.” Aziraphale said.

Crowley did as he was told and spreaded out his wings. Aziraphale sat down at his left side. Blood had consolidated and stuck some of the feathers together. Aziraphale carefully avoided those region as well. Fingers carefully parted his broken feathers to reveal some of the more serious wounds. They healed at his touch. Crowley gasped.

“Did I hurt you?” Aziraphale stopped instantly.

“No. I was just…... It felt weird.”

Slowly Aziraphale healed all his wound, cleaned away the blood, and tidied up his wings. His fingers worked through his feathers, messaging his wings, checking that all the wounds were healed. It was so relaxing that he almost purred.

After a while, Aziraphale said:

“Crowley?”

“What?” He replied. Aziraphale had moved to his right wing when he hadn’t notice, and there was some wounds caused by holy water on his back, but the pain there was gone as well.

“Are you sleeping?”

“No.” Crowley wiped away his drooling.

“Well.” Aziraphale frowned. “I’ve done everything I can do, but you might still want to groom them yourself…… ” 

Crowley rolled himself around and placed his head on the lap of Aziraphale.

“Hey! I just tidied it up.” He protested. “The feathers are all messed up again!” 

“Ah, angel. I miss you so much.”

Crowley was reaching out his hands, touching his cheeks. His eyes glowed in the dark like amber. They looked so innocent, and they were looking at him so softly, so preciously. 

“I miss you, too.” He whispered.

#

_ When you think the night has seen your mind, _

_ That inside you’re twisted and unkind……  _

Someday in the future, Aziraphale will possibly remember the lyrics that Crowley had chanced to sing on the street, and that the song was about someone who dislikes himself. But the part that Crowley didn’t tell him was, the song was also about another person, who loves the man.

_ Let me stand to show that you’re blind, _

_ Please put down your hands, cause I see you……  _

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to edit some more, but it was the first time I wrote something so long with actual plot, it was so tired. And although I edited only a few time it felt like the words had become rather boring already. So I think I would just post it, and write the ending later.  
It was pretty weird that I was having tremendous fun when writing and editing in the beginning, and when I pass the middle part it was becoming so tiresome. Maybe it's because the school had started.   
The title is because I thought the song suits it. I was going to squeeze some more song lyrics at the ending, but since I haven't write it yet, so I don't know if I could do that.  
And it's the first time in my life that I felt like I was doing something important, so I was very happy. I don't know if it was good or not, but it had actual plot!!! Yeah!!!


End file.
